


More Than a Sword

by BecauseBraime



Series: More Than [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Brienne is captured before the Battle of the Bastards and a certain Lannister finds out about it.Warning: This fic is going to start out VERY rough on poor Brienne. I'm so sorry.  I hate doing this to my girl.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: More Than [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633171
Comments: 61
Kudos: 251





	1. No Escape

One moment Pod was atop his horse, darting through the trees, and the next he was flung several feet into the air, landing hard on a massive tree root. An arrow had shot straight through his horse’s neck, sending blood splattering into the crisp northern air and a gargling whiny from the mount’s snout. The pain from impact in Pod’s side was excruciating and felt as though he had been stabbed through the lung. A pair of strong arms lifted him off the ground. Distantly, he could hear Brienne’s voice as he shook the haze away from his eyes.

“Pod! Pod! Look at me” Pod snapped his head to the side to see Brienne, covered in blood and earth. “Pod, get on my horse! I need you to get back to Castle Black. Tell Lady Sansa I failed at Riverrun. Tell her no aid is coming.”

Pod scanned the woods and saw the felled bodies of Bolton men; the sounds of nearing hooves rang in his ears. There were too many.

“My lady, I can’t leave you!”

“No, the horse cannot hold both our weight and outrun them. I’ll delay them. You have to get to Sansa, Pod! Now!”

With that, Brienne practically threw Pod atop her horse and smacked the mount on the rump. Pod felt the stead start into a sprint before he knew what was happening. Pod knew he had several broken ribs from the fall. It hurt to breathe. Hurt to move. He spun his head around to see Brienne unsheathe Oathkeeper bravely. Her sword at the ready as a group of roughly one dozen Bolton men came barreling at her. It took everything in Pod’s being to not turn the horse around. She had given him a set of instructions and he had to see it through.

Pod also knew it was Brienne’s only chance at survival. He had to get to Sansa in time to tell her of Brienne’s capture… or at least, what he hoped was her capture and not her death. Pod could feel tears stinging his eyes; a combination of the cold wind in his face, searing pain in his ribs, and unbridled fear for Brienne.

After what seemed like an eternity of riding, Pod reached Castle Black. He had to tell Lady Sansa what happened. Had to get help for Brienne. Looking quickly through the courtyard, he saw the startled expression of several brothers of the Night’s Watch who had been milling about. The pain in Pod’s ribs was searing and he struggled for breath. He attempted to dismount, but the world went black.

When Pod came to, Lady Sansa was at his bedside; a worried look on her face.

“Pod! What happened!? Where is Brienne!?”

Pod took a moment to collect himself. Scan his whereabouts. He moved to sit upright, but a stabbing sensation filled his lungs and Sansa reached to hold him steady.

“Don’t move, Pod. Your ribs are broken badly. Pod… what happened, please?”

As if just coming out of a trance, Pod screamed. “Brienne! We have to get to her. The Boltons attacked us on the way back from Riverrun. There were too many. I swear Lady Sansa, I would have stayed.”

Sansa shushed Pod and put a hand on his shoulder. He could see the worry in her eyes at the mention of the Boltons. _I have to stay calm. I have to get Brienne help._ Pod collected himself and began anew.

“My lady, we made it to Riverrun and immediately understood why your letters were not being answered. Your family was under siege by the Freys and Lannisters.”

Sansa sucked in a breath at the news, but didn’t want to interrupt now that she finally had Pod focused.

“Lady Brienne met with Ser Jaime and he granted us access into the castle to treat with your Uncle.”

“Wait, what? Ser Jaime just let you and Brienne through the siege lines?”

“Well, yes my lady. They spoke for some time in the Lannister camp and he gave her until nightfall to convince your uncle to take the Tully forces and come north to your aid.”

Sansa was incredulous. “The Kingslayer was going to let you simply waltz into a castle he was attempting to siege and peacefully remove my kin to march north in our aid?”

Pod was a bit caught off guard by Sansa’s reaction but pressed on.

“Yes, my lady. Lady Brienne says Ser Jaime is true to his word. He always seems it to me at least. Plus, he would never hurt Lady Brienne.” This time Sansa did not interrupt, but looked confused by his statement. “The blackfish refused to leave the castle. Lady Brienne tried her best truly, but he wouldn’t leave his home. Lady Brienne was able to convince Ser Jaime to take Riverrun without bloodshed, but your uncle, the Blackfish, refused to go down without a fight. Your Uncle Edmure and the rest of the Tully forces are still at the castle now. The Blackfish is dead. He was the only loss from the siege.”

Pod noted the disappointment on Sansa’s face and he paused to let the information sink in. Pod wanted to provide time for Lady Sansa to collect her thoughts.

“When Lady Brienne and I left to come back here, we stopped at a village to procure some horses. Somewhere between here and Winterfell, we were attacked by the Boltons on a back road in the woods. They were firing arrows at us. We tried to get away on our mounts, but one of the men sent an arrow through my horse’s neck and I fell. Lady Brienne killed a few, but there more were approaching. She put me on her horse and bade me here to let you know aid would not be coming.”

Pod felt a weight lift as he concluded the story, but the worry only intensified.

“I shouldn’t have left her. She is probably dead and it is my fault.”

Pod turned to see a flash of darkness wash over Sansa’s features as she digested his words.

“No, Pod. I know Ramsay. She is very much alive. In what condition though… I fear to think on it. I need to find Jon. We need to get to her. Hopefully we won’t be too late. We’ll have to proceed now. Ramsey has Rickon and Brienne.”

Before Pod could respond, Lady Sansa had abruptly stood from her chair and darted out of the room. The young squire looked up at the ceiling and let his mind wander back to that moment in the woods. It was only then that Pod realized he had been crying.


	2. Truly A Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne meets Ramsay. 
> 
> I am sooooo sorry for this...
> 
> Aiming to get the next chapter up tomorrow

When Brienne came to, it was dark, cold, and wet. In a panic, Brienne realized that she couldn’t see out of one eye. Nothing but blackness. Feeling her eye socket, she was shocked at the swelling her hand encountered. _Thank the Gods they haven’t taken eye at least_.

Brienne began fumbling in the dark, reaching her hands out before her, behind her, and to her sides, trying to get her bearings. Her one good eye could make out light from some faraway point, but her eye was still adjusting to the dark and it was near impossible to tell where she was. Brienne wouldn’t need to wait for too long, as she heard the sound of an iron door creaking open in the distance.

Staggering to her feet, Brienne shambled towards what she recognized as prison bars. Her hands reached out and grabbed the cold iron in a bid for balance. Footsteps filled the space and the sound of keys. Coming into view was an older looking soldier with a long scar running down his neck and he flashed missing teeth from a devilish smile.

“Aye there ya are. I was thinkin’ I’d need to beat ya awake. His lordship will see ya now.”

The man’s breath was putrid and his weathered hands placed the key into the iron door, pulling it open.

“Give me ya hands girl lest I cut ‘em off.”

Brienne stuck out her arms and was immediately hit with the sensation of heavy iron clamping onto her wrists. The man grabbed her by the chain connecting the cuffs and gave a violent tug. They slipped through a series of passageways until they entered into a great hall. They were at Winterfell.

A terrible sense of unease crept into Brienne’s stomach as the man yanked her forward and into the hall. Looking around, Brienne observed the banners of the flayed man and a rush of memories came back to her. Locke. The bear pit. Jaime.

Pulled into the center of the room, Brienne found herself face to face with Ramsay Bolton, bastard son of Roose. Brienne’s mind was filled with the sound of Sansa’s screams that oft echoed throughout Castle Black in the middle of the night. On numerous occasions, Brienne gently prodded Sansa awake; the poor girl damp with sweat and gasping for air as Brienne tried to soothe her. Sansa didn’t tell Brienne much about her time under Ramsay’s watch, but she didn’t need to. Brienne understood all too well the kind of torture and terror the Bolton house can inflict on people.

Bile rose in Brienne’s throat as she considered this may well be her last moment before she meets the Seven.

“Ah here you are! We’ve been waiting all day for you to come to. My apologies about the eye. My men get a little aggressive when out on a hunt. Can I offer you a drink?” Ramsay extended his arm towards the table where some roasted pig, winter vegetables, and jugs of wine were laid out.

“No.”

“Hmm not much of a talker are you. You aren’t going to bore me, are you? I so hate being bored.”

Brienne swallowed deeply and could do nothing but shake her head back and forth at the man.

“Oh come now, I heard you were much more entertaining than this. Don’t disappoint me… Kingslayer’s Whore.”

At the moniker, Brienne felt her body tense and her stomach drop. _Gods no_. Ramsay must have picked up on Brienne’s shock at hearing the name again these years later.

“Oh you’ve heard the name before? Let me see why might that be? Oh that’s right! You traveled with my man Locke. Delightful fellow. Truly. I dare say he learned a thing or two from me, but well... I always found his methods a bit… soft.”

 _Don’t show him weakness. Stand your ground. Give him nothing to go off of_.

“You know, I almost didn’t believe it when Locke recounted the tale. You, a great lumbering beast of a woman, and the Kingslayer, the Lion of the Rock himself, huddled together in the night. Tell me, what was it like wiping the ass of Tywin’s golden son? Did he ask for your dick as you cleansed him or did he ramble on about his sister’s cunt? I mean… you do have a cock being as mannish as you are, don’t you?”

Brienne’s heart was racing and her breathing erratic. Ramsay seemed to pick up on this and let loose a sardonic laugh.

“Oh calm down now. It’s a bit early in our courtship for all that, wouldn’t you say? Now please sit, eat.”

Brienne reluctantly sat but hadn’t the stomach for food and drink. Further, she didn’t trust anything a Bolton would put in front of her to eat or drink. She watched in disdain as Ramsay shoveled food into his mouth nonchalantly, reminding her of Roose Bolton when she and Jaime were captive at Harrenhal.

“So tell me Whore. Wherever were you coming from in such a hurry. Didn’t even have time to stop by the castle and say hello, did you? It was most curious to hear my scouting reports of a man-woman and some boy, making haste for the Wall. Whatever could you be headed that way for?”

_I will not betray Lady Sansa. I don’t care what he does to me._

“Nothing of consequence.”

“No no no. That is dreadfully boring, and I told you how I hate to be bored. Lets try again, what were you doing headed for the wall?” Ramsay practically spit the last part at her; waving his knife and fork in the air like a madman.

“Relaying a message to the Night’s Watch.”

Ramsay flashed a wolfish grin.

“And what prey tell might that message be?”

Brienne swallowed deeply trying to think of a lie quickly.

“Lord Stannis has fallen. The Stormlands are without a Warden and as a vassal house of the Stormlands, it is my duty to represent the interests of my people.”

“Stannis fell moons ago. This is nothing new. I will ask you one more time. Why were you headed for the wall?”

Brienne steeled herself and conjured a lie from what little information she gathered at the Lannister camp. “While this may be nothing new to you, news only just reached my homeland. There is word that the Faith militant have Queen Cersei. With no Warden in the Stormlands, my people are without protection. I was sent to treat with any remaining men from Stannis’ camp. Bid them return home and protect the vassal houses.”

Ramsay seemed dismayed, yet somewhat accepting of her answer. He studied her for a moment and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Well this is far less intriguing than I had hoped for. But now here is an interesting thought. The Stormlands are to the east, are they not? My men caught you riding through the woods along the west. Why not just sail to the Eastwatch and make way to Castle Black from there?”

Brienne started to stammer a reply, but Ramsay was busy calling back to someone over his shoulder. An attendant came running up to the young lord and handed him a long, thin object covered in linen. Brienne watched intently as Ramsey pulled back the covering to reveal Oathkeeper. A sob caught in her throat.

“Now I must say, this is a mighty fine sword. Truly befitting the Kingslayer’s Whore. Could he no longer wield such a thing with his swordhand missing?” Ramsay let out a mocking chuckle. “Locke told me Tywin’s baby son cried and sniveled like a babe when he took the Kingslayer’s hand. Tell me, do you act as his _hand_? Is that why you have his _sword_? Do you keep it steady in hand for him? Stroke it up and down for him?”

Brienne’s eyes widened in a mix of horror and disgust at the man’s insinuations. Ramsay took great pleasure in her reaction and pressed on.

“I jape my Lady whore. Such a shame though. Our beloved Kingslayer lost a hand _and_ a sword.”

At that, Ramsay lurched towards Brienne, grabbing her chains and yanking her clear across the table. Caught off guard as she was, Brienne barely reacted in defense. Time went still as her stomach slammed into the table, doubling her over at the waist. Air rushed from her lungs. Then she heard Ramsay’s cold voice rise above her.

“Best we return both to him at once!”

In a heartbeat, Brienne’s world went still. Her ears were ringing and everything before her became a blur. She could barely register Ramsay’s laughter as she fell back from the table, her right hand severed from her body.


	3. North or South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime debates which direction to head before a message arrives.

Jaime looked around the hall, watching the idiotic Freys toast to their ‘great’ victory at Riverrun. He took another slow sip of his wine while thinking back to a particular boat with a particular blonde wench sailing away from him; yet again. Jaime had wanted to jump off the battlements and swim after her. He would gladly cast aside his Lannister name and the baggage it brought to be at her side. But no, he was Cersei’s creature.

Things had been strained with his twin for some time, but Jaime had Tommen’s safety to concern himself with. The boy was adrift at sea with no parental figure to anchor him given Cersei’s imprisonment with the Faith Militant and his own absence in the Riverlands. Were it not for Tommen, Jaime would gladly let them have Cersei. In this world however, that option did not exist. His only remaining child needed him, so he did what he could to expedite the campaign at Riverrun, pleased it could end without bloodshed aside from the stubborn Blackfish.

But still, sapphire eyes tugged at his heart. In Jaime’s surprise to see Brienne, he neglected to ask more about Lady Sansa’s effort to reclaim her home. Suddenly his mind was rife with concern over Brienne’s well-being. _Would they have enough men for such a campaign? When would they march on Winterfell? They must have been desperate to come for the depleted Tully forces of all things_.

His thoughts were interrupted by the bawdy sellsword beside him. 

“Ya daft cunt. Those servin’ wenches ‘ave been eyein’ ya up all night and ya sit there stewin’ over a couple of faraway blondes.”

Jaime shot Bronn a glare. _It’s not two blondes I long for_. As if reading his mind, Bronn pressed on. “Which one?”

Jaime felt his face scrunch up in irritation at the crass man. _Knowing bastard_. “I’m just thinking…”

Bronn’s widened. “Aye, the tall one. She’ll be fine. She’s got Pod’s magic cock to keep ‘er warm at night. Did I ever tell ya bout what he did with the whores in kings landing? The little shit… they gave ‘im the money back! Can ya believe it!?”

Regardless of the absurdity of Bronn’s insinuation, Jaime felt the shock of the statement wash over him. His mind then wandered back to Brienne. _She certainly wouldn’t bother with the boy, but has she been with another? Does she long for me the way I long for her?_

“How do you even know that? Never mind, don’t tell me.” Jaime’s eyes looked back out over the great hall. “Do you know how many men the Boltons have stationed at Winterfell?”

Bronn rolled his eyes and sighed. “Come off it! Enjoy the night! Get ya cock sucked by them wenches in the corner.”

Jaime ignored the man’s vulgarity and pressed on. “I can’t imagine they’ve amassed enough men to fight the Boltons. Why else come all the way to the Riverlands?”

As if truly hearing Jaime for the first time, Bronn shifted to face him full on; a genuine sincerity in his voice and eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine. Ya hear she beat the Hound!? Pod told me at the camp. I wouldn’t cross the bitch; that’s for bloody sure.”

_She beat the Hound!? When did she fight him? Was she OK? She seemed physically well at the siege. Stupid, stubborn wench! Can’t she keep herself out of trouble._

Jaime inhaled sharply and looked down into his wine. “Maybe we should head north. Just to make certain they have a real plan. I don’t doubt the woman would just charge straight in without so much as a thought to the fact that no one was running behind her.”

Bronn sighed and shook his head. “Gods help me. Did ya tell her at the camp?”

Jaime looked at the sellsword quizzically. “Tell her what?”

“Don’t play the fool Lannister! You’ve been moonin’ over that woman since ya sent her off with Pod. Have ya even admitted it to yourself?”

Jaime huffed. “Admitted what?”

Bronn rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his wine. “Ya love ‘er. Ya love ‘er and ya love ‘er way more than your cunt of a sister in King’s Landing.”

Jaime scoffed at the man and downed the rest of his wine in one sip, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny the accusation. I just need sleep. On the morrow we’ll return home and all thoughts of the wench will be long gone.

Jaime headed up to his assigned chambers for the night. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity, but he couldn’t shake the wench from his mind. _Those eyes. Those long legs that could wrap around me. Those big lips parted around my cock_. Jaime felt himself harden and he took himself in hand. After spilling on the sheets, he rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.

_“Jaime! Jaime!”_

_“Brienne? Brienne, where are you? I can’t see you.”_

_“Jaime help, please help! It hurts so much. Please.”_

_“Brienne, what’s wrong!? Brienne where are you!?”_

_“Jaime please it hurts. **My hand. I was that hand**.”_

_A bloody stump reached out at Jaime through the darkness. Then Brienne came into view._

Jaime awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. _Gods just a dream. It’s not real. I need to get some air._

Jaime started getting dressed and putting his armor on as best he could without his squire to help. He made his way to the yard where his men were already preparing for their departure south. As he approached his group of generals, Bronn came striding up to his side.

“Gods ya look like shit!”

Jaime groaned in irritation. “Couldn’t sleep. Are the men ready?”

Bronn looked out over the camp and sighed. “Ready as they’re gunna be. So, are we still headed south?” Bronn gave a knowing smirk at him.

Truthfully, Jaime was conflicted. His head told him to make for the capital and ensure Tommen’s safety. His heart called him north. Before Jaime could respond, a young bannerman came running up, panting for air.

“My lord! Riders approach. They bear the Bolton banners.”

Jaime’s and Bronn’s eyebrows rose in surprise and Jaime quickly mounted his horse. Looking back to his generals and Bronn he barked a command. “With me. Now!”

The group made their way to meet the incoming riders carrying the Bolton banners. As the group came to a stop in front of each other, one of Bolton’s men cast a dangerous smirk at Jaime. “Kingslayer, Ramsay Bolton has something of yours he bid us return.”

Jaime felt his body tense as his eyes darted to his men. Bolton’s man stepped forward holding a bag and a letter. He presented the letter first with the unbroken Bolton seal.

Kingslayer,

Locke tells me you lost a hand during your time on the road together. I can’t fathom how angry you must be with my house and I seek to make amends. Please consider this my way of extending an olive branch if you will. I am returning what was taken from you.

Yours,

Ramsay Bolton

Warden of the North

Lord of Winterfell

The man thrust the bag at Jaime with a smirk. Jaime looked into the bag and gasped in horror. Slowly, Jaime pulled out Oathkeeper and (if the blood still coating the sword was any indication) Brienne’s hand.


	4. A Lion's Claws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Bastards is here. 
> 
> I hope to post the next chapter tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

Sansa looked on in terror at the carnage before her. She had warned Jon not to underestimate Ramsay and yet it was the first thing he did. The moment Sansa saw Rickon next to Ramsay, Sansa knew he was as good as dead. _Gods Rickon. He was but a babe toddling about when I saw him last_. Now he was a young man distantly before her, but he would never know the world as a man full-grown.

And Jon… honorable, brave, stupid, rash Jon was on the verge of death himself. Sansa sat on her mount alongside Davos at the edge of the woods. Sansa could feel heart racing, palms sweating, and body tensing at the realization that once Jon fell, her own time in this world was borrowed. She watched as the Bolton soldiers pressed in on her northern and wiling armies; like a firm, hand squeezing around her soft, pale neck.

_Mother. Father. I shall see you soon._

Sansa felt as much as she heard a change in the atmosphere. The distant sound of a cavalry charging in from the south. _The Vale! Baelish. Thank the Gods they are here_. Squinting into the distance, Sansa saw sea of mounted soldiers followed closely by foot soldiers, making haste for the heart of the battle. As they neared, Sansa quickly realized that their colors were off. These were no falcons… these were lions!

_Gods have mercy. Bolton must have sent for reinforcements. As if he needed it._

Sansa looked frantically to Davos who mirrored her concern and worry.

“M’lady. The Boltons are loyal to the crown. The Westerlands must mean to aid the bastard. I best take ya north o’ the wall as Jon bid me.”

Sansa felt the air escape her lungs. She looked back towards the battle and lifted her chin in defiance. “No. These are my people. If they fall, so will I. I am done running.”

Before Davos could press the issue, they both watched as the Lannister army unsheathed their swords from their mounts. There he was at the head of his pride, the Kingslayer, leading the charge. Pod’s voice echoed in Sansa’s mind, making her take pause. _He would never hurt Lady Brienne_.

Within the same breath, Sansa watched in shock as the Kingslayer dropped his sword down onto one of Ramsay’s men, his army following suit. _They’re fighting for us!_

Sansa turned back to Davos who shared in her confusion and relief. Looking back over the scene before her, she could see the Lannister troops circling the Bolton men, turning the tide easily. There were too many lions for Ramsay’s flayed men to contend with. As the Lannisters hacked away at the Bolton men from outside the lines, the northern and wilding forces hacked away from the center.

A small, vicious smile tugged at Sansa’s lips. She raised her head across the field to see Ramsay and his commanders hightailing it back for the castle. _Yes Ramsay, run. You are now the one on borrowed time._

As Bolton numbers dwindled, Sansa and Davos slowly pressed forward. In the distance, Sansa could see a group of Lannisters lead by the Kingslayer making haste towards Winterfell’s gates. A group northmen and wildlings, complete with a giant, hot on their heels. Sansa spurred her horse faster, making her way around the battlefield. She would not, _could not_ miss this moment of victory. The moment of recognition in Ramsay’s eyes when his world came to an end.

As she entered the courtyard, a felled giant greeted her with what appeared to be near fifty arrows through his body and face. That seemed to be their only casualty as the Bolton men laid down their arms, raising hands into the air. Sansa saw the Kingslayer stalk towards Ramsay. The bastard’s eyes went wide with fear as he raised his hands in preparation for assault. She observed the Lannister bannerman and Northmen hold back, frozen in place as the lion stalked his prey.

Before Ramsay could so much as reach his sword or bow, the Kingslayer launched himself at the man. A fury of golden and flesh fists connecting to Ramsay’s jaw, cheeks, eyes, and skull. A litany of curses echoed off the walls of the courtyard. A series of mad, furious screams escaped the Kingslayer’s lips, a man whom Sansa had only ever seen composed, confident, and arrogant. This lion was wild, sloppy, and consumed.

Sansa watched in a mix of satisfaction and shock as Ramsay’s face splintered. The bone of his nose now jut out to meet cold northern air. Ramsay’s cheeks popped and split open under the steady baragae of connecting fists from the Kingslayer. Blood poured from every orifice of Ramsay’s face and a desperate cry like that of a lamb being slaughtered drifted into air; matched in volume to the Kingslayer’s string of obscenities. With another blow, Sansa saw Ramsay’s skull concave in on the right side.

Making her way around the courtyard to see Jaime’s face, Sansa was surprised to observe a steady stream of tears pouring down the man’s face, betraying the rage filled cries escaping his lips. Before Sansa could utter a sound, she watched as the Kingslayer moved off Ramsay while yanking the bastard to his feet. Ramsay stumbled blindly behind the Kingslayer who pulled him by the jerkin. The Kingslayer dragged the bastard to a table in the corner of the courtyard.

Shoving Ramsay’s body across the table, stomach pressed onto the splintered wood, Sansa watched in confusion as the Kingslayer outstretched Ramsay’s arms. The bastard was too wounded to protest or defend himself, but Sansa could barely make out the shallow rise and fall of Ramsay’s chest. Without a moment’s hesitation, she saw the Kingslayer raise a sword… _Brienne’s sword_!... and bring it down violently to Ramsay’s meet wrists, severing both of the bastard’s hands.

Whatever state of unconsciousness Ramsay had entered into from the pummeling inflicted on his person by the Kingslayer, he was immediately jolted from. The bastard let out the shrillest cry Sansa had ever heard escape a man’s lips. His body slunk to the ground, violently writhing in pain.

Sansa looked between the Kingslayer and his bannerman. The Lannister bannerman appeared equal parts unsurprised and shocked. The Kingslayer was shaking with rage and emotion. Emotion Sansa could not quite wrap her mind around. Something told Sansa she needed to do something. She couldn’t let Ramsay bleed out like that. _No… that would be a fate too kind_. She needed him to suffer more.

Taking a step forward slowly, she observed the Kingslayer pacing circles around the bastard; looking down at the carcass with disgust and barking at him to get up. It was as though the Kingslayer was in a trance. In his own world oblivious to everything around him. Slowly as if approaching a wounded animal prepared to lash out at any sudden sound or movement, Sansa put her arms up submission and spoke.

“Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime, look at me. Please.”

As if broken from a trance, Jaime looked into her eyes. Sansa felt her breath catch upon recognition of the intense pain in his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks tearstained. His chest heaved as though was about to have a panic attack. She inhaled and continued.

“Ser Jaime. Are you hearing me?” Her hands still held up as if confirming she intended no harm, a thought came to her. _Brienne_. She didn’t know why, but Sansa felt she needed to bring him back to the courtyard from wherever his mind had wandered. It was as if his body was there, but his mind was not.

“Brienne.”

At the mention of her sword sword’s names, the anger and pain retreated in his eyes. The shadow lifted from his face. Whatever trance he had been in was snapped. Frantically he started looking around the courtyard, paying little mind to Ramsay’s convulsions and whimpers at his feet.

Sansa turned to one of the Northmen.

“Take Ramsay to the kennels and see to it he is tied down, bleeding stemmed. He will meet a far more painful death than this slow bleed out.”

Turning back to Jaime, she lightly touched his arm and she could feel his body vibrating in panic.

“He must have her in the cells.”

Sansa bent down to Ramsay’s twitching body and reached for where she knew Ramsay kept the keys. Pulling them into her hand, Sansa righted herself and looked at the panic stricken knight before her.

“Follow me.”

Without a word, the knight followed as Sansa rushed into the castle, weaving her way down the corridors and steps to the dungeons. She quickly grabbed a torch off the wall and moved deeper into the depths of the castle, making haste for the cells.

Making her way into the room lined with empty cells, her eyes darted back and forth wildly. She scanned the corner of each.

“Brienne! Brienne!”

The Kingslayer darted out before her yelling Brienne’s name as well.

There, in the back corner of the last cell on the left was a body curled in on itself. Loose blonde waves falling from one end of the form. _Brienne. Gods please let her be alright_.

The Kingslayer must have seen Brienne at the same time and ran to the iron barred door, trying desperately to yank at it all the while screaming Brienne’s name. Sansa hurried forward, jamming the key into the lock and pulling the door open. She watched as the Kingslayer dropped to his knees and pulled Brienne’s lifeless form against his chest. He began sobbing and rocking, chanting her name over and over again. Sansa moved around from behind the Kingslayer’s back in a desperate bid to see her sworn sword’s face. As she circled the pair, Brienne’s arm flopped lifelessly to the floor. Her hand missing at the wrist.

Sansa let out a gasp and dropped the torch to the floor. She sank to her knees crying tears of her own. Brienne’s face was a mass of swollen, purple bruises, her body, clothing, and hair covered in filth. The smell of decaying flesh filled Sansa’s nose and she felt her stomach roll.

She reached out hesitantly to touch her sworn sword’s shoulder. A slow, erratic fluttering of the eyelids was the first sign of hope. Brienne was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a fuck you very much Ramsay. Hopefully this helps a little, but boy does it still hurt.


	5. A Never-Ending Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We look back on Brienne's time in the cells. This is going to hurt. It is going to be dark.
> 
> Warning for description of torture and sexual assault. If you are too uncomfortable with this, I have included less descriptive end notes to the chapter so that you can skip it. 
> 
> Sadly I needed this to frame some things for when Brienne is awake. This was the worst to write. I hate ending on a chapter like this, so the next one is now up too!

When her eyes opened next, Brienne was back on the same cold, wet floor of the cell from which she came; darkness surrounding her. Laying on her side, Brienne felt her stomach lurch and she began violently vomiting the contents of her stomach onto the stone floor. She felt dizzy and everything was a white blur of pain and loss.

Moving to sit up as her vomiting became more violent, Brienne made to position herself on her hands and knees, only to fall forward in pain at the realization that she had no right hand. A searing pain overtook her body; nearly sending her into another blackout.

Rearing back on her heels, Brienne clutched at her arm and brought her bleeding stump to her chest. _My hand! Gods no!_ Brienne began screaming in desperation and agony. Tears were streaming down her face.

From the other end of the long, dark row of cells, a man came charging towards her, screaming obscenities. “Shut the fuck up ya dumb cunt!”

Brienne could barely understand him though. Her sobs were wracking her body and she began dry heaving from the pain. “For fucks sake! Shut that dumb mouth o’ ya or I’ll shut it meself!”

“Please. Help. Please.” Brienne begged, pleaded with the man in between heaves.

The door violently swung open and the man began kicking her forcefully and repeatedly. Brienne fell back onto her side and instinctively curled into a ball. _Why is this happening. Please Gods. Help._ The man’s blows felt as though they were coming from all angles. She felt kicks to her head, back, legs, and then the worst yet… to her stump.

At the blow to her stump, Brienne choked back a sob and passed out again.

The next time Brienne came to, she heard the distant voices of two men; one yelling and the other speaking in calm tones.

“My lord. I can’t get her to wake up without proper treatment of the wound. She will slip into infection from which she will not survive.”

“Well be bloody quick about it! She’s of no use to me like this. Fucking boring whore! I want her lucid and knowing!”

“Yes, my lord. I just need…”

Brienne heard no more. She was drifting into unconsciousness again.

The third time Brienne awoke, it was to a stinging, wet sensation at her wrist. She struggled to open her eyes. Brienne wasn’t certain if her body merely lacked the strength to open her lids or if she had been beaten to a pulp again.

In the haze, she mumbled. “Please. Help.”

“My lady, best to save your strength. Now I need to sit you up. You need to drink some water.”

Brienne felt something between her armpits. She was being lifted to a seated position, but she could barely keep her body upright. Distantly her mind told her not to drink anything offered by the Boltons, but she was so thirsty. So desperate.

As the water touched her lips and dripped down her throat, she began dry heaving again. Why did it taste so bitter. With several more tries, whoever was holding her was able to get some of the liquid to stay down. She felt herself being lowered back down and she faded into the black again.

_“Brienne! You’re here. Where have you been?”_

_“Renly? My king! Thank the Gods you’re alive. I thought…. I thought….”_

_“Why did you kill me?”_

_“What!? No! My lord I could never!”_

_“I saw it. Your blade through my chest I…” Renly began grasping at a hole in his chest and gasping._

_Then he was gone._

_“Renly wait! Please come back!”_

_Brienne pushed through the dark clouds descending upon her. Arms outstretched for her king. Then the clouds cleared again._

_“My lady!”_

_“Brienne. Where have you been? I can’t find Arya. Why didn’t you find Arya!?”_

_“My lady, I did, but… she wouldn’t come with me. She was with the Hound and I…”_

_“Enough! You disgust me! She didn’t go with you because of him. Because of his sword! Did you fuck him? The kingslayer! Are you his whore!?”_

_“No, my lady please! I meant only to protect your girls as you asked me. Sansa, I found Sansa!”_

_“You were too late! The Boltons got to her. She is ruined!”_

_“My lady please. No! I’m so sorry.”_

_The clouds descended over Brienne again. When they lifted again. Jaime was there._

_“Jaime! Jaime!”_

_“Brienne? Brienne, where are you? I can’t see you.”_

_“Jaime help, please help! It hurts so much. Please.”_

_“Brienne, what’s wrong!? Brienne where are you!?”_

_“Jaime please it hurts. **My hand. I was that hand**.”_

_Brienne reached a bloody stump out towards Jaime though the darkness. She stepped closer to him…_

“Get up ya cunt!”

Brienne felt a swift kick to her backside and then another to her head. Brienne rounded in on herself; covering her head for protection. Slowly she realized where she was. In the dungeons of Winterfell. _Gods no_. _Please make it end. Make it stop_. The stench of vomit filled her nose and her whole body hurt.

Whoever had been kicking her reached down and grabbed her right arm violently causing Brienne to scream in pain. She could feel her heartbeat in her stump. Then another body was at her side.

“I said get the fuck up!”

Brienne staggered to her feet. Everything was a blur. She felt herself being half dragged, half carried by two pairs of arms; her legs sprawled out behind her. She didn’t know for how long they dragged her down the hall or even where they were headed, but when she next summoned the strength to raise her head, they had stopped outside a door. One of the men knocked loudly and waited.

The door before her swung open and there stood Ramsay. _No please. Get me away from him. Someone please help me._ Brienne swore she said the words out loud, but she could only hear mumbled sounds coming from her mouth.

“Set her on the bed.”

Brienne was unceremoniously flung facedown onto a semisoft surface. She heard footsteps retreating and the sound of a door slamming shut.

“Ah there you are. I’ve missed you. We had such a lovely dinner the other day; I couldn’t resist another chance to continue our courting. Would you like some wine?”

Brienne’s mind went into a panic, but try as she might she couldn’t bring herself to move. _Why are my limbs so heavy? Why can’t I move?_

She heard rather than saw Ramsay moving around in the room behind her. Then the sounds of his footsteps came closer. _Get up. Please get up._

Brienne felt hands grab at her tunic and tug violently, the garment tearing at the back. She felt the cool kiss of winter air against her skin. Then, Ramsay’s hands were at her breeches and smallclothes; tugging them down her hips to her ankles. Brienne felt tears at the back of her eyes and a sob choke her throat.

 _No please stop. Don’t._ Brienne desperately tried to move away from him. To escape. Her limbs felt like they were anchored down and she gasped for air as Ramsay’s weight leaned onto her back. Ramsay grabbed her hair and jerked her head to the side so that they were face to face. Tears streamed down Brienne’s face. In the back of her mind, she remembered Jaime’s words. _Just go away inside._

“Pity… no cock at all. Let me see. Do you still have your maidenhead then? I think it is so special that you saved yourself for me. Lets start with a little exam, shall we?” Ramsay wiggled his fingers teasingly in front of Brienne’s face. In a moment, they were gone and Brienne felt his hand make its way much lower.

Using everything she had in her, Brienne tried to wiggle her body from side to side in attempt to deter him. It was of no use. _Have they given me more than water earlier? Something to immobilize me? Gods why can’t I move!?_

Then she felt his fingers _in_ there. _Jaime. Please Jaime. Jaime make it stop. Make it stop like before. Sapphires._ Almost as abruptly as it began, it ended. Ramsay tore away in a rage.

“Fucking boring! Boring boring boring! You just lay there weeping!? I expected more. A fight. Something. Where is our spark Whore!”

Brienne’s sobs were stuck in her throat. Her cheek that had been pressed to the bed was soaked from her own tears. From behind her, she heard something opening; a chest perhaps. Then she heard Ramsay’s footsteps approach again.

“Do I bore you perhaps? I know what will wake you up. Give you a little of that fight back.”

Then she felt a cold bite tear into her back. He was whipping her. Everything went black again.

Brienne awoke again, but as was the case before, she was back in the cells. Her entire body was radiating with pain. Her back felt wet with some type of liquid. _Blood?_ _How long have I been out this time? Hours? Days? Weeks?_ All sense of time was gone. All sense of hope destroyed.

Several more times over the course of her time in the cells, Brienne vaguely recalled more voices, more liquid down her throat, more touches to her wounds.

Now she was being carried like a babe. Her body shouted in pain, but all she could do was groan. She felt the warmth of someone’s chest against her left side and her face. Distantly, she swore she could hear Jaime. Her Jaime.

“I’ve got you Brienne. Its going to be OK. Stay with me.”

_Jaime? Is that you? Am I dead?_

When she awoke this time, she was in a bed. It hurt to open her eyes. _Light. So much light._

A blurry figure was hoovering over her, carding fingers through her hair, whispering into her ear. Then a second figure. Smaller. Hands on her forehead, brushing back her hair.

“Brienne. Brienne, can you hear me? I’m here. I won’t leave you. You’re alright now.”

_No, I’m not. I’m not alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for anyone needing to skip this:  
> Brienne was beaten and given little medical attention of consequence. Ramsay did touch her with his hand.


	6. A Debt Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is awake. Sansa and Jaime have a talk.

“My lady, she is awake.”

Sansa jumped up from her seat behind the desk and rushed down the hall, trailing Maester Wolkan. Passing through the hallway and past several doors, Sansa arrived at the door to Brienne’s chambers. Pushing the door open, Sansa took in the sight before her. Jaime sat on the bed facing Brienne, holding her tight to his chest. Brienne’s hands clutched at his back and shoulders. Sobs wracked her body.

“Brienne. Thank the Gods you’re awake.”

Sansa rushed to the other side of the bed and laid a gentle hand on her sworn sword’s right arm; careful not to touch her bandaged stump. Brienne lifted her head from Jaime’s chest and turned to Sansa.

“Are you in much pain? Do you need more milk of the poppy?”

Brienne shook her head. “No, please. No more. I don’t want to sleep anymore. I just see… him…”

Sansa lifted her hand to cease Brienne’s explanation. “I’m so sorry Brienne. You need not say anything more. Unfortunately, this is a pain I wished we would never share” Sansa glanced at Brienne’s stump and then back to her face. “and more.”

While they were talking, Maseter Wolkan came to the bedside near Sansa. “If you don’t mind my lady, I need to check your wounds.”

Brienne nodded reluctantly and Jaime moved to sit at Brienne’s side rather than facing her. Sansa moved off the bed and around to stand beside Jaime while Maseter Wolkan stood where Sansa had previously been. Holding her shoulders forward, Jaime let out a gasp as Maester Wolkan lifted Brienne’s tunic to expose the whip marks on her back. The maester added a salve to Brienne’s skin and applied fresh bandaging against the wounds which were red, swollen, and scabbed over.

Jaime helped Brienne lean back and then the maester moved to Brienne’s bandaged stump. Slowly unwrapping the stump, still slick with salve from the last application, the maester muttered an unintelligible comment and moved to apply a different ointment than earlier. Sansa watched as the maester then pushed gently at the stump seemingly testing for some kind of reaction. Brienne sucked in a sharp breath at his movements and leaned her head into Jaime’s chest.

“I know. I’m so sorry Brienne.” At his words, Sansa looked from Brienne to Jaime who wore a matching expression of pain and sorrow. Sansa began to wonder at the Kingslayer’s matching impairment. _Had Brienne been with him when this happened?_

After his exam, the maester cast a glance to Sansa and then back at Brienne. “My lady, I need to ask you something. It is a bit private. Perhaps we could have a moment alone?”

“Please, just ask me now.” The maester looked back to Sansa who immediately knew the question to follow. Her stomach lurched and she began to feel dizzy as memories of her own torture at the hands of Ramsay came flooding to her from the recesses of her mind.

Sansa sat on the bed and grabbed Brienne’s leg which was covered by the furs. The act was as much to steady herself as provide some support to Brienne.

The maester cleared his throat and looked at Brienne. “My lady, did Lord Ramsay _force_ himself on you?”

At the question, Sansa saw Jaime’s body stiffen from beside Brienne. She shot him a look imploring him to keep his mouth shut and not make Brienne more upset than the question likely made her already.

Sansa watched as Jaime looked frantically from the maester to Brienne.

“I… I don’t know… I…” a choked sob forced its way through Brienne’s lips and Sansa squeezed Brienne’s leg tighter through the furs. “He um… he did… touch me. With… with…” Brienne raised her good hand to imply ‘fingers’. “I only remember that. I don’t remember…” Another sob escaped Brienne and Jaime tucked her head into his chest.

Maester Wolkan sucked in a breath. “I could perform an exam or get a midwife if it would set your mind at ease, but given the trauma you’ve been through my lady, I don’t want to risk upsetting you further. Perhaps to err on the side of caution, moon tea would be the best option.” 

Sansa watched as her friend shuddered and sunk deeper into Jaime’s embrace. He stroked her head with his good hand and held her firm against him, trying to offer comfort, but Sansa could see that look returning to his eyes. The look of unbridled rage mixed with pain. The shadow started to fall over his face again. The same that she had seen in the courtyard after the battle mere days ago.

Before Brienne could respond, Maester Wolkan spoke again. “If I may, I am not aware if he had done anything beyond that. When I realized why he wanted you awake after removing your hand, I tried to keep you sedated under the poppy. Ramsay never much appreciated the women he… tortured…. Not fighting back. I thought perhaps if you didn’t try to fight him, he would bore of you as he did others who were… not forced.”

Sansa felt bile rise. _I didn’t fight much. Why did Ramsay not stop his assault on me?_ Her body wanted to run from the room and from the memories, but she had to be strong for Brienne. For her sworn sword who was always so strong for her. For her friend.

Brienne steeled herself and sat up straight. “I want to know. Its my body. I have the right to know.”

Maester Wolkan bowed his head. “Would you prefer that I find a midwife my lady?” Sansa knew why he asked this. After Ramsay raped her, Sansa feared she had fallen pregnant when her moon blood did not come. Wolkan knew of Ramsay’s proclivities and understood the emotional trauma it inflicted. Wolkan brought to staff a midwife at Winterfell knowing it would make her more comfortable for the exam than performing it himself. Sansa always appreciated that, but not as much as the relief of knowing what was going on with her own body. After the midwife confirmed Sansa was not pregnant, Wolkan was able to smuggle in mood tea for Sansa and prepared it regularly for her. She would forever be in his debt and was pleased when he agreed to stay on staff yesterday at Sansa’s request.

Sansa then spoke up. “Lady Brienne, Maester Wolkan has a midwife here on staff that helped me before. I can fetch her straight away. I did find it easier than a man’s hands. No offense maester.”

“None taken my lady. Ser Jaime, I would ask you to step out of the room.”

Jaime looked incredulous. “I’m not leaving her!”

Sansa gritted her teeth. “This isn’t about you. It is about Brienne.”

The knight narrowed his eye at Sansa, but then turned to Brienne. “I’ll be back. I promise. I’ll never leave you again.” Sansa watched in surprise as the Kinglsayer placed a kiss on the top of Brienne’s head and her sworn sword nodded in understanding. Sansa found it odd that the man refused to leave Brienne’s chambers since they found her in the cells, but she didn’t push the matter as Sansa found comfort in knowing Brienne was well guarded. That and Pod’s words continued to thrum in her ears. _He would never hurt Lady Brienne._

 _But what is this strange relationship they have?_ _Why has Brienne never spoken of him save to tell me the tale of how the Kingslayer honored his oath to my mother to find me and return me home._

With a final squeeze of Brienne’s shoulder, the Kingslayer rose from the bed and marched out of the room. Sansa followed only moments later and saw him frantically pacing back and forth in the hallway. Sansa approached and he snapped his head up to her.

“He touched her! He fucking touched her! He did that to you too!?”

Sansa nodded in affirmation and watched as he paced more wildly muttering to himself. “He touched her. He touched her.”

Then the Kingslayer pivoted on his heel and strode off towards the courtyard. Sansa didn’t know what made her do it, but she followed him. He must have broken into a sprint, because when Sansa entered the courtyard, it was empty save for some Lannister bannerman and Northmen sharing ale and bawdy stories.

It had been so strange to Sansa to see lions and wolves bonding, but in the days following the battle, an unspoken comradery seemed to settle over the two camps. Perhaps it was their shared unease with the wildlings or merely an appreciation for the Westerlands rescue of their lives, but the Northman _almost_ accepted the Kingslayer’s men as their own.

From the group, Sansa watched the sellsword stand and approach. _What was his name?_ _Bronn?_

“M’lady. Are ya lookin’ for sunshine?” 

“I’m looking for the Kingslayer.”

“Aye, that’s the one! Angry fucker who spends his days moonin’ over ya sworn sword. He stomped off that way.” Sansa followed Bronn’s gesture towards the Godswood. _Mooning over Brienne?_

“Do you know Brienne?”

“Aye, I met her once or twice. Feel like I know her as I do me own mum with how much he yammers on about ‘er.” Bronn rolled his eye and smirked at Sansa.

“Thank you… I think.” Sansa made to walk towards the Godswood, but Bronn spoke up. His tone lacking its previous mirth.

“She alright? She awake then?”

Sansa turned to see a pained expression on the man’s face.

“Yes, she is awake. Being seen by the midw… by the maseter. I think it will be quite some time before she is _alright_ though.”

Bronn sucked in a breath and turned his head to the side as if to hide any show of emotion. With a nod of a head, he turned back the group of men and sauntered up to regale them another ridiculous tale no doubt.

As Sansa walked towards the Godswood, she heard the faint sound of a sword hitting something. Picking up her pace and rounding the corner, she saw Ser Jaime wailing his sword over and over against a tree. His grunts of exertion and pain bounced off the surrounding trees and Sansa slowly approached.

As she got closer, she was transported back two days. Jaime on top of Ramsay, anger and tears.

“Kingsl…. Ser Jaime.” Without turning to look at her, Jaime dropped his sword and rested his head against the tree; fighting to catch his breath.

Sansa approached slowly and sat down at the foot of the tree next to him.

“I never thanked you. For saving us. For saving her.”

At her words, she felt him slide down the tree next to her, head thrown back against the tree, cheeks wet with tears, eyes closed, still gasping for breath.

“I should never have let her.” Sansa turned to see the pained expression on his face.

“You love her.”

Jaime dropped his head forward, looking to the snow-covered ground.

“I do.”

“More than Cersei?”

Jaime huffed a laugh. “More than anyone.”

“Have you told her as much?”

Sighing and looking to her now, Jaime shrugged. “And what good would come of that. She is everything good in this world. She deserves more than an oathbreaking, sister-fucking man like me.” He looked back in front of him. “She deserves more than being sullied by the likes of me. More than a cripple…” At that he started sobbing again. Jaime buried his head in his hands; golden and flesh.

Sansa felt a pang of sympathy for the man before her. She don’t know why, but he made her remember her youth. The days when she dreamed of gallant knights riding in to save the maiden fair. _Maybe he is that for Brienne? She deserves that_ She slowly raised her hand and placed it on his arm.

“I think Brienne deserves someone who would bring an entire cavalry across the Seven Kingdoms to save her. A man who would wait at her bedside for days until she awoke, just to be there to hold her and comfort her. A man would beat her tormentor within an inch of his life and repay the torture tenfold.”

Jaime raised his head to look at her. Surprise etched on his face.

A smile spread across Sansa’s face.

“Within an inch of his life… I’ve kept him alive in the kennels. I thought it best to wait for Brienne to awake to decide the best way to end his miserable life. Shall we pay our friend a visit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay's end is up next.


	7. A Debt Paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay meets his end.
> 
> Warning: This is very graphic and very violent.

Jaime stood before the gate to the kennels. Sansa was fishing into her pocket for keys as the last rays of sunlight faded over Winterfell. The kennels were not well lit and Jaime squinted to make out a shadowed figure sitting in a chair at the center of the space. Feeling a presence at his right side, Jaime turned to see Bronn walk up and stare into the cells before looking back to him.  
  
“Ah here he is. Haven’t seen ya in a couple of days. The boys were thinkin’ ya got lost in the castle and needed a place to rest after ya little exertion in the yard.”  
  
Jaime didn’t care to engage the sellwsord. He was too enraged looked at Ramsay’s outline and thinking about what the Bolton bastard did to Brienne. His Brienne. Ramsay severed her hand. Ramsay touched her. Ramasy took her dignity. Ramsay broke her spirit.  
  
When Brienne woke up with a start, Jaime had been devasted to see the terror, pain, and anguish in her eyes. Jaime wanted to stand before the Seven and beg they take all her suffering and put it onto him. To give his other hand for hers to come back. To take the whipping for her skin to heal. To take the trauma for her spirit to recover.  
  
Jaime thought back to when he lost his hand to Locke. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Jaime remembered the despair. The shock. The pain. Never in his life had he felt to vulnerable and stripped to bare. It was as though all of his armor was stripped and he was cast into the middle of a battle without a weapon.  
  
The only ray of hope during those dark days was Brienne. Her gentle, kind touch. Her care for his festering stump. Her soothing, encouraging words. Her protection. She was a light in his darkness.

Locke and his men tried to torture Jaime after the loss of his hand, but Brienne stood before him. Kept them at bay and took their wrath and insults instead. Brienne washed him of his own shit and filth. She made certain Jaime had food and water; even if it meant giving her own rationings. Jaime knew she suffered to prevent him further pain. It was one of the many things he loved about her. Her selflessness.  
  
Jaime felt physically sick thinking about her captivity. Had anyone cared for her? Had anyone protected her? Had anything encouraged her to press on? Had anyone made sure she didn’t go without?   
  
Jaime knew the answers without asking the questions and the truth broke his heart. Brienne was stronger than him. She always had been. Jaime knew that he would have given up when his world went dark had it not been for Brienne. Jaime would have willed the Gods to end his miserable life. But not Brienne. He knew that while she may have prayed for mercy, she would not give up.  
  
Now Jaime had to be strong for Brienne. He had to pull her out of the darkness. Jaime had to make Brienne see what she had made him see. That she could heal her wounds; physical and emotional. She could fight back. Live to take revenge. But while she was still wounded, Jaime would take revenge for her. Jaime would ensure that the bastard died with her name at the forefront of his thoughts.  
  
Looking at the man to his right, Jaime inhaled and turned to look back at the shadowed figure before him. With a fury burning in his soul, Jaime gritted his teeth and acknowledge Bronn’s presence. “I have not been lost. I have been right where I needed to be.”  
  
Bronn’s took on a serious undercurrent that was infrequent at best. “What did the fucker do to ‘er?”  
  
Jaime could feel his pulse quicken with rage and his blood boil. “He whipped her. He beat her. He... touched her.” Jaime heard Bronn’s sharp intake of air beside him. It was one of the few commonalities he and Bronn had. A hatred for rapists.  
  
“Tell me what ya want done with the cunt and I’ll help.”  
  
As the lock clipped open and Sansa pulled back the iron gate, the three slowly entered the kennels. Making their way around the figure, Jaime took in the sight of the Bolton bastard.  
  
His head was bashed in and misshapen from Jaime’s beating. His nose and cheeks badly broke; bones protruding from the loose flesh. One of Ramsay’s eyes was swollen shut and blood oozed from his years. A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he looked down to the man’s hands… or lack thereof. The pitiful excuse for a man shook from what Jaime assumed to be otherworldly pain. A steady wheezing sound filled the air as Ramsay struggled to take in oxygen. He seemed to barely know where he was, but looking up at Jaime, he knew _who_ was in front of him.  
  
Ramsay’s body visibly tensed at the recognition of Jaime. _Good. Let him be afraid. I want him to feel what he made Brienne feel._ Jaime squatted to meet the man at eye level.  
  
“Her name is Brienne. You bent her, but you did not break her. You will remember that as you die.”  
  
The bastard’s features did not move; likely do from the physical inability to control any muscles tissues left attached to his face. Then Sansa spoke next.  
  
“When I was a little girl, my Nan taught me a lesson. I poked my little sister with a sewing needle because she annoyed me. As I giggled at her discomfort, my Nan jabbed me with a sewing needle. An eye for an eye she said. Don’t do to someone what you don’t want returned tenfold. My father taught me that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. My first husband taught me that a debt must be paid. My former good brother here taught me that sometimes you just need to beat the shit out of someone.”  
  
A twisted smile spread across Sanaa’s face as she continued. “I have learned that sometimes the occasion calls for all of those lessons.”  
  
At that, Ramsay’s eyes widened in recognition at the threat. Sansa leaned into Jamie and whispered sending Jaime’s gaze to the corner of the room. Ramsay’s shaking became more violent. Jaime whispered a command to Bronn who untied Ramsay from the seat. Sansa handed Jaime a whip from the same corner previously catching Jaime’s attention.  
  
Sansa spoke again. “Shall we begin?”  
  
Jaime and Bronn yanked Ramsay to his feet, spun him around violently, and pushed him to his knees. They shoved his head down onto the seat of the chair. Jaime tore open the tunic, exposing Ramsay’s back. Bronn pulled the bastard’s arms through the backside of the chair, past his head, to hold Ramsay in place.  
  
“For Brienne.” Jaime raised the whip and rained down blows across the bastard’s back; tearing out chunks of flesh in the process. For what little communication Ramsay could make, a guttural sound somewhere between a sob and a scream filled the space. Every blow felt just, but yet not enough. Images of a hurt Brienne clouded Jaime’s mind. Turning to Sansa, Jaime handed her the whip. Jaime watched as the young wolf wasted no time picking up where he left off.  
  
“For Brienne. And for me.” Sansa said as muscle blew open and Ramsay’s body went into a string of violent convulsions.  
  
When the bastard was nearly spent, struggling for breath, Sansa stopped and retreated to the corner of the kennels again; this time producing a dagger.  
  
“You touched Brienne and you had no right. You touched me and you had no right. How do we pay a rapist back tenfold?” Sansa pauses to watch the man’s eyes cloud with fear.  
  
“Ser Bronn. Ser Jaime. I think he needs to be shown how it feels. How it feels to be debased, defiled, and devalued. His pants please.”  
  
Not a moment later, Ramsay found the wrong end of a dagger pierce a particularly sensitive orifice. Ramsay convulsed and fell to the ground. Jaime watched as Sansa moved around Ramsay’s prostrate form to look down at the man. “Her name is Brienne of Tarth. My name is Sansa Stark of Winterfell. You did not break us. You never could. You will remember that as your dogs devour you.”  
  
Sansa motioned for Bronn and Jaime to exit the kennels as she unlocked the doors that held the ravenous dogs. As she walked outside, Jaime looked the young woman in the eyes and was amazed by the strength and determination that he saw. Closing the door, the three watched in silence as Ramsay’s dogs ended him.  
  
Walking back to the castle, Jaime’s mind was again consumed with Brienne. Would she have approved of what they did? Should he be honest if she asked? Then he looked to Sansa and observed her face. It was as though a mask had been pulled away. The cold, collected demeanor she displayed moments ago in the kennels was replaced by a raw pain. Jaime’s mind knew that look. He had seen it on Queen Rhaella’s face after Aerys came for her at night. Can a woman ever truly recover from those horrors? It was then that Jaime determined that while he didn’t know the answer, he would do everything in his power to make sure they never felt that pain again.  
  
Nearing Brienne’s room. Jaime observed Maester Wolkan waiting outside. The old maester glanced at them and bowed to Sansa.  
  
“My lady. Ser Jaime. The midwife is with her now. I just want to warn you that this method is not perfect. Not all maidens have the marker we look for. If Lady Brienne did have this marker and it is intact, we can confirm she was not forced. It is still possible that she never had the marker or it tore in youth, but that does not mean she was forced. Do you understand?”  
  
Jaime felt sick again. Memories of Ramsay’s punishment faded as images of Brienne defiled, scared, and hurt washed over him. He nodded affirmatively at the maester and tried to focus on one thought alone. No matter the outcome, he needed to support Brienne. He needed her to know that she is loved.  
  
A few minutes later the door open and the midwife emerged. Looking between the three she turned to Lady Sansa.  
  
“M’lady. The Lady Brienne is still a maid. The rest of her injuries I trust the maester here to manage.” With a curtesy the woman went off.  
  
Jaime sagged against the wall; relief flooding over him. _Thank the Gods_. It doesn’t take away anything else she suffered. Doesn’t take away the assault. The butchering. The fear. The pain. The memories of Ramsay’s hand. He felt a small hand grab his forearm and he turned to Sansa; a small smile tugged at her lips.  
  
“Go on. I doubt she wants to be alone. I’ll check on her later.”  
  
Jaime made his way into the room and found Brienne laying on her left side. Her stump outstretched in front of her.  
  
“Hi. Can I come in?” She gave a small smile and nod.  
  
Jaime rounded the bed and curled in behind her. “Can I hold you?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
Jaime slid his left arm under her pillow and his right arm over her waist. Stretching his stump out beside hers.  
  
“I love you Brienne.”


	8. Shared Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime talk and Brienne starts coping. Yes, I stole some Nik and Gwen interview content because their banter/friendship makes me cackle

“I love you Brienne”

The words rang in her ears and despite her fatigue, Brienne could not fall asleep. _Why? Does he simply mean to make me feel better? I’m not made for love. Maybe he means as a friend? Who could ever love me? All I was made for was fighting and now I can’t do that. I’m just an ugly beast. He called me as much once. Now I’m a cripple beast._

Brienne couldn’t speak. She felt her throat tighten and tears form behind her eyes. 

“Brienne? Are you alright?”

Brienne didn’t notice when the tears had begun to fall, but her pillow was saturated with them along with her cheeks, shoulder and neck; and by consequence, Jaime’s arm.

“You shouldn’t. You can’t.” Brienne stammered.

Brienne could feel Jaime’s weight shift behind her as he moved to support himself on his left elbow. He was looking down at her now and she felt disgusting. Brienne felt as though she was back in court, stripped bare of her armor, and under the judgmental eyes of the proper ladies and lords.

“Brienne? I can’t what?” Jaime sounded genuinely confused which was almost enough to make Brienne laugh.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You saved me. Again. You don’t need to do that though. You don’t need to try and make me feel better by lying. No one could ever love me. Especially now. Now I can’t even earn love or care for services I could once provide.”

Jaime pulled her closer again. “Anyone who couldn’t love you is an idiot not worthy of you. I love you Brienne and I know I have done a shit job of showing it before, but I promise I will make you believe me every day from this day to my last.”

Brienne started crying more and shaking her head in denial. “No. No Jaime don’t say that. I understand you love Cersei and you’ll need to return to her soon. I know what I am. Uglier in the daylight remember.” Brienne felt Jaime’s body stiffen at the words. He seemed to be searching for something to say, but then a teasing smile spread across his face.

“I was delirious and my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light. When I said that, some mad woman had my head in a sack for half a morning’s ride and had just dumped me, rather unceremoniously, off a horse and onto my ass. I don’t think I was well.”

Brienne couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. 

Then Jaime’s face grew quite serious. “I’m sorry Brienne. I was quite a shit that day. I was angry and I said horrible things to provoke you. I was desperate to get back to Cersei and my family. I hadn’t understood yet what poison they were.”

“Just the day then? I seem to recall you annoying me for weeks on end.” Now it was Brienne’s turn to cast a teasing glance his way.

“You wound me wench. I thought we really hit it off after that first knock on the ass.”

“What!? When!? I seem to recall you looking me up and down and saying ‘Is that a woman? Where did you find this beast’ and then the next time, you inquired if I had known many horses.” Now they were both laughing.

“That’s not how I remember it at all.” Jaime pushed the teasing further and Brienne shot him an incredulous look.

“Oh really!? How do you remember it then?

“It was like ‘Hey! Want to go for an ale where we’ll talk about your love live, preferred tourney event, favorite Baratheon brother…”

Brienne couldn’t stop laughing. She threw her head back in mirth and almost forgot the pain for a moment. When she opened her eyes to meet Jaime’s, they held an emotion she couldn’t quite place. It almost looked like…

“You should laugh more. Or rather, I should make you laugh more. You look beautiful.”

 _Brienne the Beauty_. Brienne’s mirth came to a halt like a candle snuffed out by the wind. She turned her head to stare back at her wall again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you or overwhelm you I just… I just wanted you to know how I feel and that I’m here for you. Even if you want me to leave, I won’t go back to Cersei. Yes, she is beautiful I admit, but it is just a shell to mask an ugly soul. That isn’t beauty, Brienne. You are beautiful to me. Please don’t be upset.”

A heavy silence filled the room before Brienne responded shakily. “Why?”

Jaime chuckled. “We don’t get to choose who we love. Loving Cersei only brought me shame. Loving you only brings me joy. I will do what you bid me, but I would be honored if you let me stay.”

Brienne turned her head back to Jaime and tried to find the lie. The jape in his eyes. Despite her best effort, Brienne found none. She found sincerity. She found tenderness. She saw love.

“Stay Jaime.”

Jaime flashed her a big smile and snuggled behind her; pulling her close again. It felt right and safe and like coming home. Within minutes, Brienne drifted off to sleep. 

_Brienne awoke to a dark room, Jaime’s arm still over her waist. It looked to be middle of the night, but the fire had died out and the room was cold. “Jaime. Jaime, the fire.”_

_Sitting up, Brienne tried to adjust to the darkness and began looking about the room to find where the firewood had been laid. Brienne turned to wake Jaime, but was met by a pair of dark, brown eyes and a wolfish grin. Ramsay. “Hello love. I hope you’re ready to fight back this time. It has been so boring with you asleep.”_

_Brienne scrambled back towards the edge of the bed, grasping for a sword that wasn’t there. Reaching back further, Brienne lost her bearing and fell off the side of the bed, hitting her head hard on the floor. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest as Ramsay stood to walk around the bed to where she lay on the floor. A sword was in his hand and his eyes sparkled with sadistic pleasure._

_“You look a bit uneven with only the one hand. Look how poor your balance has become. Shall we even you out?” Ramsay lifted the sword and brought it down on top of Brienne’s left hand._

With a scream, Brienne jolted upright in bed. She couldn’t breathe and her heart felt as though it might beat out of her chest. _Where is he!? I have to get out!_ _My hand! My left hand! Is it gone?_

Looking down at her intact, left hand, Brienne felt a presence beside her. She startled expecting to see Ramsay and began preemptively shifting off the bed.

“Brienne! Brienne, its just me. It’s OK. It was just a dream.” _Just a dream. But it felt so real._

Brienne still felt frantic; looking around for ghosts who refused to appear. She felt Jaime’s hand at her shoulder and concern in his eyes. “Breathe Brienne. Breathe with me.”

Brienne could gradually feel her heartrate returning to its normal cadence. Air came easier to her lungs. Looking to the window, Brienne could see the morning rays peaking over the horizon. She looked back at Jaime who appeared to have relaxed in seeing the recognition of her surroundings dawn over Brienne’s features.

“I have them too sometimes. Night terrors. They feel so real. I dream of Aerys burning everyone. I dream of Rhaella’s screams. I dream of... you. In that bear pit.”

Brienne felt a strange comfort in knowing Jaime could relate to the realness of her dream.

“How do you deal with them?”

Jaime sighed and seemed to search for something before responding. “I’ve never been able to make them go away. I can never go back to sleep when they occur, so I usually frequent the training yard or go for a walk to clear my head.”

 _The training yard. If only I could do that._ As if reading her thoughts, Jaime spoke again. “We can train together. I can show you how to fight with your left. You bested me with two hands before. You will best me with one soon enough.”

Brienne offered Jaime a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Maybe a walk to start? Do you feel well enough for that?” Jaime offered.

 _Gods I haven’t been outside in weeks._ “I would like that. Thank you.”

Jaime smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

As he turned to move from the bed, Brienne went to grab his arm, but only a stump knocked into it. A sharp pain radiated at the sensation of her open wound meeting his forearm. Jaime looked down at her stump and immediately understood the maneuver she intended rather than executed.

“It will get better. Leading with your left will eventually become instinct. It took me a few bumps to the stump, spilled wine goblets, and failed attempts to grab a fork, but it got better.”

Brienne inhaled deeply and looked into Jaime’s eyes. “Thank you. And I intended to clarify before that my thanks was for you staying. Not just for the walk.”

Jaime flashed a winning smile at her. “And my response would have been the same. _Of course, Lady_ Brienne.” The way he said her title and name brought her back to the tent at Riverrun. The slight mischief in his eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. She had replayed that scene over and over in her head as the boat sailed away from the castle. As she and Pod made their way back north.

Jaime and Brienne slipped into boots and furs before heading outside. Brienne was frustrated to find how difficult the most basic of tasks proved with one hand, but Jaime was there every step of the way. A knowing, sad smile. An extra hand for assistance. An encouraging word for support. _Perhaps with Jaime, I can figure this out. Perhaps I can find my purpose again._

As they entered the hallway, Brienne spotted Sansa up ahead. Sansa’s face lit up at the sight of them and it made an unexpected warmth spread through Brienne. Brienne had never seen Sansa smile so openly in their time together. As the distance between them reduced, Sansa moved to speak.

“Lady Brienne! How wonderful to see you moving about. Where are you headed?”

“Ser Jaime suggested a walk might help… clear my head.”

Sansa nodded in understanding and requested to join them. Heading towards the yard took longer than expected. Brienne’s muscles had been unused for over a moon’s turn and it showed. She felt lightheaded and weak; forcing their progress to stop several times, but they were both patient with her. Eventually they made it outside and Brienne was hit with sharp pain to her eyes and stump.

While the shock to her vision faded as her eyes adjusted to the daylight, the pain at her stump intensified. Grabbing at her wrist, she grimaced and nearly doubled over. Moving quickly. Jaime took off his cloak and covered her stump; wrapping the garment around it a few times.

“It’s the cold hitting the nerves. The wound it still quite raw.” Jaime offered the insight with some grief in his tone as they exchanged a look. _I suppose we’ll get to bond over a lot these days._

Sansa drew closer to Brienne’s side and looked down at the thick binding of Jaime’s cloak now over Brienne’s stump. Sansa looked up from the cloak and to Jaime. “Will it get better when it heals?”

Jaime let out a resigned sigh. “The pain become less severe, but never fully heals. Its worse in temperatures like this. I wouldn’t swimming in an icy pond or trying to pack snowballs anytime soon.”

Before the conversation could continue, a soldier standing atop the battlements shouted. “Riders at the gate!”

Sansa, Jaime, and Brienne turned to the entrance as the guards pulled open the newly restored gates. Brienne’s heart stopped for a beat.

Pod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will start moving forward outside the Braime bubble after this.


	9. Shifting Dynamic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tries to understand Jaime and a major bit of news reaches Winterfell.

Sansa watched as Brienne and Pod sprinted towards one another and met in a firm embrace. Pod was beaming at Brienne until he saw her stump. The young squire dropped to his knees, tears wracking his body, and Brienne bent to haul him up. The two shared a private conversation which Sansa could not discern. To her right, Sansa caught Jaime’s observation of the two.

Sansa bit back her instinct to use the moniker ‘Kingslayer’ as she moved to get his attention. “Ser Jaime.” Jaime slowly turned his head to look down slightly at Sansa, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“Oh, Ser Jaime? Whoever is that?”

Sansa rolled her eyes before donning the mask she preferred to present the outside world. Some people had swords to shield themselves. Sansa had her mask; cool and controlled. The opposite to how she oft felt on the inside.

“I imagine those two will like some time to catch up. Walk with me.”

Sansa observed his hesitance; attributed it to what she imagined to be both a lack of desire to leave Brienne and a lack of excitement at the prospect of a chat with her. Once they set off, Sansa took the opportunity to ask some questions which had been plaguing her.

“You’re not quite the man I remember from Winterfell so many years ago. You recall the meeting? The one where my brother ‘accidentally’ fell from a tower.” Sansa cast a knowing glance at Jaime and was somewhat pleased to see the man cower in shame.

“I recall the visit.”

Sansa continued. “Tell me, how did you come to know Brienne. As you can imagine, Brienne is not much for a storyteller nor one for idle gossip. All I know is she wears a Lannister sword and returned you to King’s Landing on order of my mother.”

Jaime took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. He told Sansa of his capture by her broth, release by her mother, and return by her sworn sword. It was a succinct telling of the tale and Sansa could tell that a good deal of detail had been omitted; particularly the parts involving his journey with Brienne.

“Is that when you lost your hand? With Brienne? Or was it in my brother’s camp?” Sansa waited and watched a slight darkness settle over Jaime’s features. With an inhale and glance around the courtyard, Jaime’s eyes settled on Brienne and softened.

“When Bolton’s men captured us, they meant to rape her. I interceded and lost my hand for it.”

 _Oh. Well that I was not expected._ Sansa’s face must have betrayed her because Jaime spoke again. “Yes... the dastardly Kingslayer did something halfway decent for once in his life.” Sansa noted the self-deprecating tone which reminded her so much of Tyrion.

“Well it seems you have saved my friend from a cruel fate twice. I’m honestly more surprised that Roose Bolton bothered keeping her alive upon your arrival at Harrenhal. She was hardly a valuable prisoner to their cause and I doubt your father wanted her waltzing into King’s Landing given her oath to my mother.” Sansa was again surprised to see the grimace on his face as though another painful memory pushed its way to the surface.

“Well, he didn’t exactly care to keep her alive. He gave her to Locke as reward for capturing me.” Sansa felt her body stiffen at that before confusion settled in.

“How did she come to return with you then?”

Jaime again looked to Brienne and continued his tale; never looking away from Brienne as he spoke.

“I left her behind initially, but I forced my party to return. Locke and his animals had thrown her in a bear pit with naught but a wooden tourney sword to defend herself.” _Gods!_ Sansa looked back to Brienne and then returned her eyes to Jaime. “How did she survive a bear?”

Jaime shrugged as if recounting a confrontation he had with a butterfly in a soft summer meadow. “I jumped in. Perhaps my lunacy made even the bear take pause. What kind of moron doesn’t think to bring a weapon. It bought us enough time for the assigned guards from my party to shoot the bear with arrows while we hoisted her out.” Sansa was awestruck. _Who is this man? How can he be the same person who brought so much pain to my family?_

“You jumped into a bear pit? Unarmed? Were you delirious from infection!?” At her response, Jaime threw his head back and laughed. “I always thought to pride myself on military strategy. Don’t poke holes in my ego.”

Sansa needed to understand his plans and opted for a more direct approach. “What are your intentions here?”

Jaime looked like a deer staring into a crossbow. “I… I don’t know. I only know that I won’t leave Brienne.”

Sansa sighed at this. _This man has no clue what he is doing and the implications his presence has_.

“Your nephew sits on the throne. Your army just helped my northern forces overthrow Tommen’s ally to reclaim my home. I think you’ll need to put some thought to life beyond rescuing Brienne.”

Jaime looked as though he had been slapped. Sansa sighed and bid her goodbyes to a man she officially didn’t know what to make of.

The day passed in a blur as Sansa busied herself with administrative tasks befitting her station as lady of Winterfell. She found herself up into all hours of the night pouring over the books, assessing the food stores, and meeting with various vassals. Sansa crawled into bed that night with a host of tasks already taking shape in her mind for the day ahead.

The following morning, Sansa found herself back in her solar with Jon prattling on about the undead creatures threatening to kickstart another Long Night. It wasn’t that Sansa didn’t believe Jon so much as she was exhausted and had slightly more pressing matters. She was exhausted from her escape from Ramsay. Exhausted with trying to reclaim her home. Exhausted from all that needed to be done to rebuild the North after Ramsay’s destructive, albeit brief, reign.

Then, the world shifted beneath.

Maester Wolkan came darting into the solar with a scroll from King’s Landing. The Lannister seal was unbroken and Jon moved to take it. Reading the missive, Jon looked to Sansa; shock evident on his face. Snatching the scroll from his hands, Sansa read the letter and then read it three more times for good measure.

“I need to find Ser Jaime…” Sansa rushed through the halls of Winterfell towards Brienne’s chambers. To her frustration, no one was there. Sansa checked the Great Hall to no avail and then made her way towards the courtyard. Looking around, there was a quiet bustle to the space, but no sign of Brienne nor Jaime.

Heading into the training yards, Brienne saw them. A handful of Lannister soldiers and northmen were drilling while Jaime was helping Brienne with her left-handed grip on her sword; correcting her stance and movement. Pod stood patiently waiting for Brienne to digest the feedback and renew their sparring session. A look of sorrow in the boy’s eyes as he easily deflected Brienne’s strikes.

Sansa slowed her steps as she approached the trio. Pod saw her first and dropped his sword to bow. Brienne and Jaime turned and upon noticing Sansa, moved to bow as well.

“Pod. Brienne. Ser Jaime.” Sansa offered with a slight nod.

Jaime smiled “See! This one likes me now. I knew my charming personality would win her over eventually. She didn’t even need to drag me around on chains for weeks on end before I accomplished the feat.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and muttered something that Sansa could not hear. Offering a small smile, Sansa spoke again.

“Ser Jaime. I need to speak with you.” Jaime looked back at her and shrugged. “What can I do for you?”

“In private please.” At that, the activity in the training yard seemed to still and taking in the expression on her face, Jaime knew this would not be pleasant.

Sansa watched as he leaned into Brienne and whispered something to which her friend offered a small nod.

Jaime walked over to Sansa who directed him towards the castle. Finding an empty room out of earshot, Sansa produced the scroll from her cloak. Reading the missive, Sansa watched his face go ashen and his body slump.

The scroll had been brief.

The Sept of Baelor had been engulfed by wildfire the day of Cersei’s trial. She was absent from the sept as was Tommen; everyone else was inside. Tommen took his own life afterwards and Cersei was to be coronated. All Wardens were to appear and swear an oath of fealty to their new queen.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss...” Sansa began, but was quickly interrupted by Jaime.

“Don’t!”

Sansa startled at his tone. _Should I leave? Give him space to grieve. Surely, he can’t stay at Winterfell now. Should I encourage his departure? What do I tell Brienne?_

Before she could take action, Jaime spoke again; more speaking to himself than directing anything to Sansa.

“She always finds a way to win.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Jaime looked at her with rage in his eyes.

“Cersei.”

“Ser Jaime, I don’t follow. The accident…”

“This was no accident! I know this was Cersei! She is Aerys reborn. No one is safe now.” His tone dripped with disgust and anger. Sansa didn’t understand what to make of his reaction. _Aerys reborn? No accident?_

Jaime started pacing the room wildly, muttering to himself and slamming his gold fist into the wall. Collecting himself, Jaime looked back to Sansa. The look on his face caught Sansa off guard. His rage had melted away and Jaime appeared more like a young boy; alone in the world without family to guide him. It was unnerving to say the least. 

“Sorry. I… I need to speak to Brienne.”

Jaime stormed past her and back out into the courtyard, leaving Sansa to try and make sense of his reaction. She has expected him to rebel in anger at not having been there for his family. Expected him to abandon the north and Brienne immediately to make haste back to Cersei. If anything, it almost appeared as though a final tether linking the twins had snapped.

_Well now what do I do? A new Lannister queen who wants my head sits on the throne and her army lead by her former lover and twin, holds it in the North._


	10. New Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime figures out what to do.

“So what are you going to do?” Brienne looked at him as though there were clear options.

“That’s why I’m talking to you! What do I do Brienne?” Jaime was beside himself with a mix of rage, grief, and confusion over the news from King’s Landing. The only clear thought swirling in his mind is that he would never go back to Cersei. She was good as dead to him now.

He looked back at Brienne, sitting on a tree stump in the Godswood. The snow was falling lightly around them and flakes were collecting in her blonde hair. A part of him wanted to brush them off, take her back to her room, close the door, and forget the outside world existed for the rest of their days. The other part of him, the part of him that was a man of action, needed to do _something_.

“Well… the letter is quite clear that all the Wardens are to go before the queen and make oaths of fealty. When Tommen released you, did he make you Warden of the West? Who holds it now?”

“Tommen dismissed me from the Kingsguard. He ordered me to lead the Lannister army. My Aunt Genna has been acting castellan of the Rock, but I suppose we haven’t formally named anyone. I suppose by birthright I am heir and would be Warden.”

“I imagine your army will follow you regardless of what Cersei says. They seem very loyal to you. Maybe you should write your aunt? Can she be trusted?” Brienne gave Jaime a quizzical look.

Thinking back to his aunt, Jaime felt his smile return. “She is as formidable as my father, witty as my brother, and stubborn as you. You’ll like her.” _Because either you’re coming with me or I’m staying here. Unless…_

“Brienne, what will the Stormlands do?”

“About what?”

Jaime huffed in irritation. “About the orders for all Wardens to go to King’s Landing and swear fealty. Will they support Cersei? Who is warden now?”

Jaime watched as Brienne thought on it before looking back to him. “I’m not certain. They don’t have a Warden now. The Stormlands a rather stubborn lot. We had been pledged to the Baratheons of Storms End for too many generations to think back on. When the infighting broke out, they convened as a group to discuss the matter. Most of the vassals pledged to Renly and the rest to Stannis. My father swayed most towards Renly. It was more a process by committee than anything.”

Jaime smiled. “Good. Brienne, you should write your father. Tell him what we know about the Sept and that Cersei can’t be trusted. The Stormlands have already gone against the crown in the last war and they deserve to know the truth of what Cersei is. Tell them the West and the North won’t recognize Cersei either. I highly doubt Lady Sansa is planning to march down there and throw her arms around my sweet sister’s neck in congratulations.”

Brienne shot him an incredulous look. “You mean to have three of the seven kingdoms sit in open rebellion? The Stormlands were decimated after the last wars. They can’t have more than four thousand left to call to arms. I don’t know if they would take the risk.”

_Oh, she doesn’t know._

“Brienne, after I set you off to find Sansa, my brother demanded a trial by combat with the Mountain. Oberyn Martell was his champion. Lets just say it didn’t end well for the prince, but Dorne took their revenge. They will never pledge to Cersei.” Memories of sweet, innocent Marcella came flooding back to Jaime. Sucking in a deep breath and steadying himself, he continued. “They… killed Marcella, Brienne.”

Meeting Brienne’s eyes, he was surprised by the hurt on his behalf that he saw there. “Jaime I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Waving his hand to dismiss it, the wounds still to raw to discuss, Jaime inhaled and looked back towards the castle. “Wasn’t Sansa expecting the Vale to send aid? Her cousin sits in the Vale, doesn’t he? They’ll likely stay neutral as they always do. The Tyrells are all likely wiped from this world now, but Highgarden would never pledge to Cersei after everything with the Sept.”

Jaime watched as recognition slowly dawned over Brienne’s features. “Cersei has no support.”

Jaime smiled sadly. “Why else would she demand an audience. My sister has never otherwise cared what anyone thought and just assumed their fealty. Now she means to force everyone’s hand.”

Jaime suddenly remembered his original point in all of this. A sly smile crept back to his face. “You know… the best alliances are forged through marriage.”

Jaime watched Brienne’s face wrinkle in confusion. “You think your sister means to marry? Everyone you just named seems to side against her.”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. “No, not Cersei. Well to be fair, she would eagerly use what’s between her legs to rope in an unsuspecting victim. I’m talking about unifying some of the rebelling kingdoms.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed in further confusion. Then Jaime dropped to one knee before her.

“Marry me Brienne. And I don’t just mean for the alliance between our kingdoms although that would make for a rather convenient play. Marry me because otherwise I’m just going to be following you about here in the cold, bloody north and my men are going to hate me and I do _deplore_ being cold. You remember how irritating I became the last time I had to follow you about mindlessly for weeks. And marry me because… well… I know you don’t really believe me, but… I love you.”

Jaime’s heart was racing and he watched Brienne’s’ eyes, wide in shock, take it all in. His heart fell a bit when she started shaking her head. “Jaime. You’ve just suffered a huge loss. I do trust you. I do believe you love me. Your actions have more than shown that. Its just. I’m not well made for being a wife.”

“You’re made for me Brienne. I don’t care about whether you host any tea parties with the empty heads at court. I don’t honestly care what anyone thinks when we spend our mornings in the yard training. I just… I can’t leave you again Brienne.”

Brienne looked back into his eyes, a wet sheen coating them. “I never imagined anyone _wanting_ to marry me. My father couldn’t even manage to pay someone in form of an island to take me. I just imagined I would spend my life serving, fighting, and dying a good cause. For other people’s love. For other people’s home.” Brienne took a deep breath before continuing. 

“I suppose if I am to marry, I would only want it to be with someone I love. So… yes. I’ll marry you.” Jaime’s heart leapt out of his chest and he lunged to pull Brienne into his arms. He couldn’t remove the smile from his face as he leaned his nose into her neck.

Chuckling into her ear he offered, “I’ll try to be on better behavior than the last time I followed you around.”

They broke the embrace and Brienne was smiling wide too. “I can’t imagine you could get much worse.”

“Is that a challenge wench?” Jaime moved to sit at her side and pull her stump between them for warmth. “We should send ravens to our homes. I also think it best to return to Casterly Rock for a bit. I know you are sworn to Sansa, but I think she would understand. You need time to heal and train. It’s too bloody cold here and I need to get the men back. I also have about half my army still stationed there. We only took the numbers we needed to Riverrun.

Making their way into the castle, Jaime tracked down Sansa and asked for private audience. As the three of them stood together in the same room that Sansa had delivered word from King’s Landing, Jaime laid out his plan.

“I imagine you won’t be headed to King’s Landing to swear fealty to my sister?” Sansa shot hit him a looking befitting a court jester.

“Well it seems your forces are a bit depleted at present. Perhaps Brienne and I can bolster them.” Jaime watched with concealed amusement as Sansa’s expression gave way to one of surprise and hope. “Brienne here has begrudgingly agreed to marry me; by process uniting the West and Stormlands. Hopefully all the vassals of the Stormlands will stand with us against Cersei. Our houses alone should outnumber any threat Cersei could conjure, but given her limited option in allies, I don’t see that being of concern.”

Jaime watched as Sansa’s mask fell and the little girl inside stood smiling before them. “You know Ser Jaime, if you insist on continuing to come to the North’s side, we _might_ need to reconsider your moniker.”

Jaime couldn’t resist the urge to tease the girl now. “Oh to be clear, I came for Lady Brienne. If I happen to fulfill an oath to your mother along the way, I consider that a minor consequence.”

The three discussed support from the remaining houses. To Jaime’s earlier consideration, Sansa concurred that Dorne and the Reach would not side with Cersei; the latter having limited manpower after their recent encounter with the crown. Riverrun was held by the Freys, but Jaime felt the Lannister forces could easily take it back. Jaime chuckled at the implications of another visit with Edmure. Sansa was uncertain where the Vale’s interests sat while in Baelish’s slimy hands.

As their planning drew to a close, Jaime and Brienne made their way to the rookery to write their respective letters. Perhaps writing was a generous term considered both had lost their dominant hand; Brienne quite recently. Jaime chuckled at the obscenities flying from Brienne’s mouth as she tried and failed to make her letters. Leaning back in his chair, he watched her face scrunch in concentration.

“Perhaps we should have brought Pod along. Between the two of us we have just the one set of hands and given both are left hands, this might take a moon’s turn.”

Brienne looked up at him as though he had offered to grow her a new hand. “Why didn’t you suggest that sooner!? My father will need a scribe from the Citadel to try and make sense of this. It is bad enough I need to explain I’m down a sword hand, betrothed to the ‘Kingslayer’ who I promise is quite honorable, and I mean to rebel from the crown. He will think my poor letters are on account of head injury rather than a missing hand.”

_Oh. I had not considered this betrothal might cause quite the stir given my reputation. Should we sail for Tarth first? Mayhap we’ll have the wedding at the Rock and invite the Stormlands._

Jaime chuckled imaging the reaction from his Aunt Genna to a wedding at the Rock. Like Tyrion, she had wanted to see Jaime break from Cersei’s claws for some time. It seemed his aunt would finally get her wish. Jaime envisioned presenting Brienne before his aunt and he imagined they would get along quite well. Both strong, stubborn women with little desire to play at court.

His musings were interrupted by Jon Snow.

“Lady Brienne. Ser Jaime.” It did not go unnoticed to Jaime that the bastard cared far less for him than Brienne. The two did not have the friendliest encounter some years ago when Jaime was last at Winterfell and at the peak of his golden lion arrogance.

As they nodded to Jon in greeting, Jaime watched the boy go on a tear about the room to scribble out several missives. Jaime couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer and needed the break from trying to write with his left hand.

“Well you’re more brooding than ever.”

Jon cast a glare at Jaime before responding. “I have quite a lot going on. While my sister spends her time pondering a war to the south, I’m trying to prevent us from death to the north.”

_I’m sorry the what now?_

Jaime looked to Brienne to see she had taken pause from her parchment too.

“Death to the north? I’ve oft thought of it, but no. Here I am. Saving you people _again_.”

Jon found a way to glare more intensely than before. “I’m talking of the threat beyond the wall. The true north as the wildlings say. Death marches on us and it won’t matter who sits on that throne of yours.”


	11. A Wave Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided this is it for part 1. This basically take us through season 6 - before Danny arrives at Dragonstone. If there is interest I might do a season 7 and 8 rewrite since Jaime breaking from the crown has HUGE implications for the wars to come. Also I want to get Brienne in a better place emotionally and physically - poor thing.

Brienne and Jaime stared at Jon as though he had sprouted another head right before their eyes. The former lord commander of the Night’s Watch had described the threat to the north with as much gusto as the brooding man could muster. Looking to Brienne and then back to Jon, Jaime let out a loud guffaw.

“And here I thought I was losing my mind being so far north at Winterfell. I didn’t realize all the grumpkins and snarks beyond the wall could warp a man’s mind further.”

“This isn’t a joke! The threat is real and death marches for us all.”

Jaime threw up his hand in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Look Snow, as of right now I am guilty of treason. That seems a more imminent threat to my life than these undead. My men are freezing their balls off and ready to call for my head themselves. To make matters worse, my betrothed here is down her sword hand, still recovering from quite the trauma, and writing to let her father know that she intends to wed the Kingslayer. I think I fear death by Lord Tarth most of all.”

Jaime could hear Brienne huff in exasperation at his words, but Jaime pressed on. “I’ve got quite a lot going on right now and I’m trying to avoid death as it is. I’ve already told Sansa that should the crown march against the North, I will return with aid. For now, I need to get Brienne and my men back to Casterly Rock.”

Jon sat back in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. “When the time comes to fight the dead and should we call on you, will you answer?”

Jaime sighed and looked to Brienne who gave an affirmative nod. “You have my word, for whatever that might be worth to you. Your father never thought much of it.”

Jon visibly relaxed. “Thank you. Your word does mean a great deal.”

Jaime’s tone then took on its typical teasing lilt. “Now when you’re done writing your friend there about dragon glass and whatever else can defeat these grumpkins of yours, might you help a couple of cripples write some letters to two families likely to send for maesters specializing in head trauma after they make sense of our chicken scratch?”

Jon huffed a laugh and smiled at Jaime. “If I’m on my own for now, so are you. But feel free to send word when they come at you with a sword and I’ll send aid.”

As Jon finished his letter and sent the raven off to the Citadel, Jaime called out as the bastard moved to leave the room. “You wound me. How am I to write such a letter when my hand will be occupied with a sword raised in defense?” 

Jon turned to face Jaime before leaving. “I thank you for coming to my family’s aid against the Boltons. I pray the threat to the south resolves itself before the threat to the north arrives.”

At the words, Jaime and Brienne could hear the man’s retreating footsteps from the rookery.

Jaime shrugged his shoulders while smiling at Brienne. “You’ll protect me from your father, won’t you?”

Brienne rolled her eyes and looked back to her scribblings. “Maybe the shock of seeing me handless will distract him from the sight of me taking your cloak.”

Jaime’s smile grew at the thought of Brienne taking his cloak. Then he fell back into his self-deprecating lilt. “Well I’m glad that given the two options, a hand or a Lannister cloak, the hand will concern him more. I’m not certain all fathers would feel quite the same way.”

Two ravens later, Jaime and Brienne made their way downstairs. Their first stop was Pod.

As they approached the boy turned man in the courtyard, a smile spread across Pod’s face at the sight of the two. Pod turned his attention from the mount he was saddling for a Lannister bannerman and bowed to the pair as they approached.

“My lady. Ser Jaime.”

Jaime looked at Brienne who was fidgeting with her cloak and trying to collect her thoughts. Earlier she had conveyed his worry that Pod would not want to stay with her given her inability to properly train him anymore. Jaime put a steadying hand on her back and gave an encouraging nod.

Brienne faced the boy who stood at attention like a young pup. “Pod I was hoping to speak with you about your plans. I’m set to leave on the morrow with Ser Jaime and the Lannister army. We’re to return to Casterly Rock for some time. I was wondering if you might join us. I know I won’t be of much use to you now, but I…”

Pod’s smile was beaming and he lunged at Brienne, wrapping his arms around her. “Thank you! Yes, I would love to join you. You’ll be a better swordsman than me with just your left hand in no time and I would be honored to keep training with you my lady.”

Jaime watched as Brienne breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into the boy’s grip.

Jaime tried to hide the laughter in his voice. “Good well that’s settled. We’ll get you quarters in the castle if you prefer. You and Brienne can have more time to train that way and we can get you some proper armor. You’re going to need it.” Jaime gave a teasing look towards Brienne, but before she could muster a retort, Pod had flung himself at Jaime, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

“Thank you Ser! I would love to stay at the castle.” _Gods the boy has a grip on him. My ribs are like to break._

Looking to Brienne for help, she was covering a smile with her hand and Jaime’s heart melted at the sight. _I suppose a few broken ribs are worth it._

“Alright now Podrick. Please release me or I’ll be joining this dead army that Snow is so up a tree about.”

“Sorry Ser. I mean my Lord. I mean…” Jaime held up a hand and rolled his eyes.

“Just Jaime will do.”

After leaving Pod to finishing his work on the mount, Brienne headed back to the castle to begin packing and Jaime left to find his captains. It didn’t take long before he found Ser Addam, Ser Daven, and Ser Bronn. The three were sitting at a table, feet kicked up, and mugs of ale in hand. Seeing Jaime approach, Addam and Daven shot to their feet while Bronn merely rolled his eyes in response.

“Cuz! What’s the word? How much longer before we return to an area of Westeros where plants can grow?”

Jaime snorted at his cousin’s words and looked around the yard at the drab setting.

“We ride out on the morrow. Ready the men. We are to return to the Rock.”

A hardy round of cheers rose from the three as they toasted their ales. Then Addam spoke up.

“The Rock? What of Cersei and King’s Landing?”

Jaime felt his body tense at the mention of his sister. “She is lost to us Addam. She used wildfire to destroy her enemies and innocents. I will not stand by her any longer.”

The men nodded in approval, but the momentary silence was broken by Bronn.

“Besides, who needs ‘er when there is a tall blonde knight he so enjoys rescuin’.” Bronn cast a suggestive smirk to the two who barely suppressed a laugh.

“Aye, quite the talk amongst the men there cuz. Are we to add a member to our party?”

Jaime felt the blush at the back of his neck. _Gods the men. I hadn’t even considered their thoughts on the display I put on in the courtyard with the Bolton bastard._

Before Jaime could reply, Bronn kept teasing. “Ya kiddin’ me? Like he’s gunna let ‘er out of sight ever again. On one side of ‘er hip will be ‘is sword. On the other will be himself.”

The boys all barked a laugh at that and Jaime felt the blush deepen into a most mortifying crimson that would rival their banners. 

“Alright now enough of it. She is to be the Lady of the Rock and I won’t have you embarrass her with this nonsense when she joins us on the morrow.”

At that the men ceased their chuckles and Daven stood from his seat to round the table and stand before Jaime. Placing a firm hand on his cousin’s shoulder, he looked him in the eye; a dead seriousness in his tone. “Cuz, I’m glad of it. She must be a fine woman to go through all this for. And I know I can speak for all the men when I saw we’re glad you mean to break from Cersei.”

Jaime was glad to hear his words, but they still left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was one thing to declare himself free from Cersei and another thing altogether to leave her alone in this world. He knew he wouldn’t go back on his words earlier. He would never join her cause again. He would live in open rebellion and help aid the North should Cersei move against them, but he didn’t know if he could proactively march against her. His love no longer, she was still his kin. Hopefully someone else would see to it that her reign ends.

Heading back into the castle, he joined Brienne to help her pack. It was a frustration he could relate all too well to, trying and failing at folding one’s own clothing.

That night Jaime lay awake, watching Brienne sleep beside him. _Gods let her have a peaceful sleep for once._ Brienne’s night terrors had not let up since her rescue. Jaime could already envision the fight with his aunt when he insisted on sharing a room with Brienne before they wed.

Nuzzling in closer to Brienne, Jaime sighed and closed his eyes while resting his forehead against hers.

The next morning after a less than peaceful sleep from yet another bout of Brienne’s night terrors, Jaime and Brienne made their way to the great hall to break their fast. The last of Lannister forces were clearing out from the hall and preparing for the departure. Everyone in the Lannister camp was in high spirits to be returning home. Word had spread quickly of Jaime’s and Brienne’s betrothal and Jaime was glad of it. It felt good being able to display his love to the outside world. Not needing to hide in the shadows and feign disinterest.

Sansa approached their table with a sad smile on her face.

“Well, this is it I suppose. Again, Ser Jaime I thank you for saving us.” Jaime inclined his head to the young wolf and Sansa turned her attention to her sworn sword. “I wish you a speedy recovery Lady Brienne. I owe you my life. Should you have need of anything, just write.”

Brienne smiled at the young woman and stood to bow. “It has been an honor Lady Sansa. Should you have need of aid, you need only write. I can’t promise I’ll be of much use, but Ser Jaime promises support should you need it.”

Sansa smiled warmly at her friend and then extended her hands. “I have something for you both. I hope I got the measurement right.”

Sansa opened her hands to what appeared to be tiny handknit hats with the Lannister sigil on them. “They’re to protect your stumps from the cold. I recall Ser Jaime saying that pain never quite improves when exposed to cold. If I may?” Sansa extend her hand towards Brienne’s bandaged stump and placed it around the wound, tying it securely into place with the laces she had placed at the top.

Sansa then turned to Jaime who removed his golden hand and accepted the gift. He was surprised by how warm it was. Not only would it protect from the cold, it would also act as a buffer between the gold false hand which often chaffed his skin. _Why has no one thought of this before? Then again, Cersei never gave a shit for my pain._ He looked to Brienne who had tears in her eyes and pulled Sansa into a warm embrace.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa. This is wonderful. It will come in particularly handy for the trips North that Brienne is bound to drag me on.” A smile tugged at his lips as the women before him beamed.

Sansa looked between the pair before speaking again; a slight teasing note in her voice. “Well I look forward to those visits. Perhaps the next time I can knit you some of these with direwolves on them. They would be much more handsome.”

Jaime snorted and the three said their goodbyes. As they entered the courtyard and moved towards their mounts, Jaime watched as Brienne cast a glance backwards at Winterfell. A slight sadness in her eyes from what he knew came from leaving Sansa behind.

As they approached their mounts, Jaime helped Brienne up and instructed her how best to adapt to steadying herself without her dominant hand. Pod approached to her side on his mount and looked on sadly as Brienne fumbled with the reigns and grimaced slightly as her stump instinctively went to steady herself in the saddle. Jaime moved atop his mount and looked to his captains to move the men out. As they set-off south, he watched as Brienne glanced one final time behind her, raising her stump in a motion similar to the wave Brienne gave Jaime from the boat at Riverrun. Selfishly, Jaime was happy to be by her side this time as she bid her goodbyes. He looked over his shoulder to catch Lady Sansa return the wave from atop the battlements.

Looking back to Brienne, he smiled sadly. “We’ll be back. You have my word.”


End file.
